American Ghoul - Define Monster
by ravenofpoe14
Summary: "I have a heart says science, but I am a monster says society." Rae Silve is tired. She's done with the world and the humans that live in it. When she gets the news that she's dying, she feels as I the world has given up on her. That changes when she meets a small child with a hunger for her flesh. But it doesn't matter anymore.
1. Chapter 1

I am a monster. And this is exactly what I deserve.

The sky is grey, clouds roiling in preparation to mirror my own feelings. The air seemed cold, harsh, and hard to breathe. My self-loathing has reached its peak today. Most days, I can handle it. I know I am evil. But today, it stops me in my tracks, in the middle of a crowded sidewalk, and makes me take notice of the sky. Head cocked to the clouds, ignoring the people around me, bumping into my shoulders and grumbling about being late for their lives. I felt the need to stop and wait for the sky to cry. Because when it starts crying, it felt like permission. That maybe I could be forgiven if the clouds were willing to weep for me. I waited, but the clouds moved on.

The sky cleared, and frozen to the molecular level, I shuffled on. Mindless of where I was going, instincts were probably directing me to my car. I clutched the paperwork from the doctor in my hand, and really, I just wanted to let them fly away. Pretend I learned nothing today. But this is my punishment. So, I crumpled the papers in my fist, (my contract to death) my new prescriptions and instructions on how to live the last days of my life and continued mindlessly shuffling.

Not entirely conscious of what was going on around me, I was startled to notice people around me were running and screaming. I stopped and looked around me at the buildings and panicking people and thought, 'What the hell?'

That's when the explosion happened. It felt as if I had been picked up and tossed back by a giant. My ears were screaming a high pitch, and my hands covered my face and head in a stupid attempt at reducing any more injury. My eyes watered from smoke and dust and the mute ringing in my ears continued. I blinked my eyes frantically, trying to make out what the shapes around me were and realized I was lying on the sidewalk six feet away from where I had been standing. There were people lying all over the street and sidewalks, some were getting up slowly and in a daze, similar to me, but others were quite still. Cars were knocked aside like toys, and a fire blazed through the broken windows of part of the hospital.

The whining in my ears had decreased, and the muffled cries of the people around me replaced the once pleasant numbness to my eardrums. But out of all the calls of hurt I heard, the one that snags my shocked attention is the cry of a child. I stumble towards that sound, stagger around people reaching out to me on the ground. The crying grows louder, and the pain in it hurts my heart. The cry of someone who has lost everything. Who has no hope. I know this sound well.

I find the child in an alley. Despite the dust and smoke invading the air, and despite the sudden chaos enveloped in my world, this child looked like an angel to me. He was sitting against the brick wall, knees against his chest and his beautiful blonde hair the only thing I could see of his head and it glowed in the faint rays that dared shine through the smoke, like a halo. He looked about three years old; his arms and legs still chubby with baby fat. His clothes were in tatters, his fingers and toes caked with grime. Blood stained his hands and face. His weeping stopped abruptly, as if he sensed my presence. He raised his head to look at me with red and black eyes widened with fear. An angel with red eyes and the taste for human flesh. He was a ghoul.

I knew about ghouls. Everyone did. They were a frightening presence in every major populated areas of the world. They had frightening strength and terrible powers. But they could only survive by eating one thing. Humans. Thus, they were the ultimate murderers of the world. There were special military forces in every country of the world designed to eliminate these notorious monsters. Some even take ghouls hostage for information, study and dismembering their internal weapons. The Japanese had the lead sources for removing such nuisances from humanity and had the best ghoul labs in the world. But even they struggle to maintain the levels of ghoul population within their country. America was not far behind. According to the news, the United Nations had agreed to share resources concerning ghouls, since they are essentially a threat to humanity.

This much I knew, but I didn't care. Not right now. This ghoul was still a child. His eyes were filled with a pain similar to my own, and that was all that mattered to me. He looked panicked ready to run, so I limped to the opposite wall and slid down to sit.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" I said in a soft voice.

His panicked expression vanished, melting into a mask that just stared at me with red watchful eyes. He slowly blinked but said nothing. His expression of pain deadening into a mask that showed no emotion, except for the careful caution in his eyes. He was used to hiding his feelings and at such a young age meant that he had already been through a lot. Caution was understandable. Humans and ghouls kill each other all of the time, so trust between us was expected to be difficult.

"My name's Rae. What's yours?" I tried to smile, but it seemed foreign to me and he flinched slightly when I did, so I let it fall and continued to wear my sorrowful expression. I tried adjusting my seat, pondering my next action, while sirens, screams and moans permeated the sky. I winced, realized my entire back and bottom felt bruised. I tried to push to my knees and hissed out a breath at the sharp pain. Dried blood smeared my legs from the scrapes I had received from the blast. The cuts had stopped bleeding, but moving to my knees had reopened some of the wounds. New blood seeped freely from my knees onto the ground.

The child made a small noise, and I heard him take a deep breath. I looked up from my wounds to find him crawling toward me, like a baby would when it was presented with a fresh bottle of milk.

Except this toddler did not want milk.

I should be frightened. What is wrong with me?

The child kept cautiously crawling toward me, attracted by the blood and all I could think is, 'Poor thing must be hungry.' His red eyes weren't wild and scary. They looked scared and hungry. Desperate. I held still as he crept towards me and slowly crawled in my lap. I put my hands on his back so that he could keep his balance. He didn't react to my touch, so I pulled him toward me and held him. I breathed him in deep and found he smelled of blood, smoke and the slight scent that children seem to have. I held him and imagined that this is what it would have been like to hold my own baby.

Tears fell down my face unbidden. I wish I could have held my baby. At least once. But it's my own fault that I can't. I am a monster and this is what I deserve.

"Go ahead, sweetie. Take a bite. It won't hurt me," I say to the hungry toddler. I feel him nuzzle the crook of my neck, right where the neck and shoulder connect. I could feel him hesitate, his mouth opened to my skin. His little hands clenched my shirt so tightly that they began to shake. I pat him gently on the back, encouraging him to eat. Finally, I felt pressure of tiny teeth and then he bit down hard and ripping back he took flesh, muscle and nerves. I breathed deeply and exhaled through the pain. I was afraid if I screamed that I would scare him. I didn't want to scare him away. He was my child now.

"I'm going to take care of you while I still can," I whisper against his soft hair. I could feel the warmth of blood pouring out of the wound on my shoulder. The steam rising from the blood swirled around us and for the first time in five years, I felt at peace. Even though I could still hear the chaos only a block away, this spot in the alley with this child was the only thing that seemed to matter.

The child pulled his face away from my shoulder and looked at me. His mouth was a crimson smear of my blood and he was chewing what he had nursed from me. I take a hand and I wipe the blood from his face and sweep his blonde hair from his eyes. He kept watching me, chewing and pondering.

"Do you have a name?" I asked, while I caressed his head. He swallowed his meal, but said nothing. Just stared. "Could I call you Gabriel? Or Gabe?"

Silence. I looked in his red eyes and thought I saw something other than caution when I mention calling him Gabe.

"Okay, I'll call you Gabe. Are you still hungry?" I held out the hand that had been caressing his head and showed him my arm. "Here, Gabe. You need to eat to grow up strong, you know?"

He slowly took my arm with both tiny hands and bit into the flesh of my forearm. Again, I breathed deep and exhaled slowly. My body was numbing to the sensations, my brain trying to protect me from myself. When he finished that bite, I tried offering him my hand or fingers but he just looked at me and gingerly laid his head against my shoulder.

I must have dozed off for a little because I woke up shivering, Gabe still in my lap but he sat upright and alert, watching the entrance of the alley. His red eyes were wide with fear and he his breathing became frantic.

"Gabe? What is it, sweetie?" I asked, worried.

That's when I heard it. The sound of heavy boots on pavement. I still heard sirens and screams but the boots sounded ominous and so loud. They were still trying to help people after the blast, so there would be plenty of firemen and officers around. With plenty of injured humans, that also meant that the Ghoul Enforcement would be out helping and making sure bodies didn't start disappearing. There were ghoul squads in every county of every state. They kept humans safe and investigated ghoul suspected killings. They would kill Gabe on the spot.

"Let's go, Gabe. We need to leave."

I gathered him into my arms and stood on shaky legs. The cold and blood loss were getting to me, not to mention my poor health made things worse. But I held on to my child and staggered to the entrance of the alley, looking around before leaving our safe spot and found that it was clear.

The place was a wreck and I wasn't sure if my car made it through the explosions. The heavy boots had passed our hiding spot and moved on to more critical areas, but we needed to leave. I had no idea what caused the blasts but priority was my child. I needed to get him to my house and then I could figure out what to do. I tried to quickly move in the direction I thought my car would be in the parking lot across the street. I held Gabe close to me, his little legs wrapped around my waist and his arms clinging around my neck. He kept his head tucked to my shoulder and I had one hand on the back of the head, gently preventing him from moving his face into view.

The smoke was beginning to clear, which hopefully meant that they had the fires under control at least. I managed to dodge groups of people trying to give medical help to others or move debris. When I made it to where I had parked without being seen, I was relieved to find that my car was still in one piece. I walked to the driver's side of my little blue car, and found a very large dent on the seam of the door. I yanked on the door, hoping the damage wouldn't affect opening the door, only to find that the handle wouldn't move anyway. I had locked my car.

"Damn it," I muttered and looked around in the hopes that my keys would magically appear. Even if I could open the car, I don't know that first thing about hotwiring automobiles. I started rocking Gabe a little while I tried to think of the next best thing to do.

I carried a ghoul in my arms and he was noticeable too with his red eyes that didn't seem to go away. I was bleeding and covered in dirt. I couldn't ask for assistance since they would want to take us to the hospital. We needed to be out of sight. My apartment was nearly a mile away and public transportation would prove tricky. My mind snagged on a thought. I could borrow someone's cell phone, keep Gabe's head tucked like it was and get a ride from my brother. My brother would prove complicated to persuade but it was worth a shot.

I was so deep in thought, I didn't notice when Gabe tensed around me. I didn't notice when someone approached me until he was right by me.

"Ma'am are you alright? Do you need any help?" I jumped at the voice and quickly turned to see a young man in a red and black uniform peering at me with concern. He seemed relatively young, with no grey scattered in his dark curls. He had what a normal police officer would carry on their belts, cuffs, pepper spray and a baton, but the extra weapon had me frozen. He carried a whip on his belt that seemed to pulse a dull red. My husband had one when we were first married. It was a weapon most cadets used when they first entered the ghoul hit squad. The man seemed innocent and young, but it wouldn't matter in the end.

"N-no, I'm fine," I stutter and turn to walk away. But it wasn't that simple.

"Wait, you're bleeding!" He grabbed my arm to stop me from walking away.

Shocked I cried out and stumbled into my car, keeping a desperate hold on Gabe while trying not to fall to the ground.

"Let me help you," he said trying to be soothing.

I shook my head and straightened my back.

"I'm fine, really." I tried a smile and looked at him in hopes that he would believe me, but my smile disappeared when I saw the look on his face. The arm he had grabbed was the one that was keeping Gabe's face into my shoulder, but Gabe must have popped his head up when we almost fell, which allowed the man to see his face.

"Ghoul!" gasped the man and he stumbled back, his hand going to the whip on his belt. His eyes were wide and wild with fear. He stared at Gabe's wide red and black eyes and the blood staining face.

"It's okay!" I stepped away from him and put my hand back on Gabe's head. "He's not going to hurt you!"

The young man's eyes darted to the bites on my neck and arm. He gripped his whip and gasped, "I have to report this!" Instead of pulling his weapon, he grabbed his radio. "This is officer 0-0-5. Requesting assistance for an issue 10."

"No!" I screamed, and ran, clutching Gabe desperately. They were not getting this child. It would be over my dead body. I was able to run ten paces when I realized the sounds of boots were in pursuit. As I ran, more boots seemed to join.

They were shouting at me to stop, but there was no way in hell. Adrenaline numbed my body to my injuries and aches and I ran. Just get away. Get away. It doesn't matter where. _Run. _


	2. Dark Alleys

I am a monster and this is exactly what I deserve.

They saw my face. They are probably scanning areas where I have been seen for fingerprints and DNA. They will know me better than I know myself. But I will hide. I am determined to find the safest place for Gabe. Which is probably the last place I should be venturing as a human. It doesn't matter. My life is forfeit. This may be what I deserve, but it isn't what Gabe deserves.

I ran until I couldn't anymore. They saw my face but because I am human, they didn't use their specialized weapons on me. How I possibly outran them is beyond me, but it helps that I know this part of the city pretty well. My wounds were throbbing, my legs hurt, my arms ached and I felt nauseous. I sat in yet another alley panting and exhausted, with Gabe in my arms. He had dozed off in my arms. His soft breathing was comforting and I wished dearly we could make it somewhere safe, where we could curl up warm and sleep.

I was pretty sure I was freezing, but my body was too beat to shiver properly. The air was crisp and as I sighed, my breath furled out of my body, escaping to the sky. That sky still hasn't cried for me. Once, it does, its tears would be frozen and uncaring.

I looked at Gabe's sleeping face, peacefully sleeping. If it weren't for his eyes, I would have never mistaken him for a ghoul. Really, he doesn't act any different from a human being. He feels pain. He hungers and shivers. He has hopes. And fears. I wondered where his parents could be and if they would be angry with me for taking him. I shrugged that thought off. If we did find his parents, whether they ate me or not wasn't much of a concern. My few months to live had made me wonderfully fearless. Or perhaps foolish, but who knows?

"Thought someone was here. What are you doing?" a voice in the dark.

I stiffened and looked deeper into the alley to find a man staring at me, hands in his pockets. Out for a casual stroll in the dark, and it seemed so natural to him, like he was meant to hide in the dark and stroll about comfortably. It was hard to see him in the moonlight, but he seemed sturdily built and about average height.

"Please," I whispered, "I need help."

He took his hands out of his pockets and walked closer. "Why should I?"

"I just need a phone." I could call my brother and crash at his place. Maybe.

The man crouched down beside me and looked at me quietly.

I wasn't sure what he saw. I knew I was a mess. My white blonde hair was probably matted down with grime. My clothes were smoke infused and blood stained. My skin, once pale now sported new shades of black and blue with a splash of red. His gaze lingered over the wounds on my neck and arm; the bite marks Gabe left behind after his meal. I had looked at my arm and it looked like a perfect imprint of teeth and missing flesh. It looked pretty gross, but I didn't mind.

Gabe must have woken up when the man arrived because I felt his head move and look at the man. I quickly moved my hand to cover Gabe's eyes, but I saw the widening in the stranger's eyes and I knew he saw it.

The man's eyes met mine, and they seemed darker than before. "Please," I whispered, "He won't hurt you." My eyes started watering and I leaned down to kiss Gabe's head. Gabe nuzzled my chest and squeezed me in a little hug, like he was trying in his own way to comfort me back. "Don't call the cops. I'll leave, just let us go." The tears started pouring down my cheeks.

"Where did you find him?" the man asked, his voice quiet. He hadn't made any move, but watched not Gabe, but me warily.

"There were explosions near the hospital. I heard him crying."

"You're the woman on the news then. They're looking for you."

Terror swathed me. "What?" I gasped.

"Come on. My shop is here. We can get you someplace to sleep for a while." The man stood and offered me his hand. I stared at it. It was rough, callused from hard work. I wasn't sure I should trust anyone. A hand reaching out to me in the dark, with promises of a safety was tempting. But was it the devil offering the fruit?

The man's hand held steady and his quiet voice penetrated my thoughts. "He's cold. Let's go."

Shocked, I realized Gabe _was_ shivering. His clothes were thin and torn and I was an idiot for not covering more of him sooner than this. That sealed my decision. Even if this man was a threat, a few seconds of warmth wouldn't be so bad.

My baby needed sleep, warmth and maybe some water. I wasn't sure if ghouls needed to stay hydrated, but I would try it later.

I grabbed the man's hand and squeezed it a moment. His eyes widened with surprise but he quickly hid it with a slight gleam of his teeth as he smiled. He yanked me to a standing position and I stumbled into his chest with Gabe between us. He steadied me with his hands gently and then led us around to the back of the alley, where there was a door, presumably to his shop.

The shop looked to be some kind of deli that sold baked goods and assorted meats and cheeses. The smell was amazing and I breathed in the aroma appreciatively. The guy glanced at me while he led us to the back, so I must have been pretty obvious. I blushed and followed him up the stairs, along a hallway and to a door in the back.

When he opened the door and told us to wait for a minute while he grabbed a few supplies. While he was gone, I introduced myself to a nice little apartment meant to house one person, but didn't seem to be lived in. Though there was furniture, there were no other home-like knickknacks to be seen. No pictures, house plants. No magazines. Nothing.

The stranger came back through the entrance, one hand holding a bottle of water and another had a plate with assorted cheeses and meats. "Is this your place?" I asked, trying to ignore the plate of wonderful sustenance.

When he saw that I wasn't going to take the food from him, he set the meal carefully on the kitchen counter. "I own the whole building, but I rent this place out occasionally. I live across the hall from here actually. You both can stay here tonight." He gestured to one of the other doors, "That's the bedroom. Should be big enough for you and the kid."

Now that we were out of the dark shop and alleyway, I could see the stranger better and really appreciate what I saw. He looked to be in his thirties, his skin tan from the sun. His hair was light brown, slightly longer at the top, with bangs that framed his serious green eyes. I suspected that he worked outdoors a lot judging from his calloused hands and solid built frame. His arms were nicely muscles, not too much but enough to be firm to the touch. His right arm was covered in grisly tattoos of war and blood. The most popping image was the black profile of a woman's smiling face on his forearm, and the terrible bloody scenes seemed to surround that one image. His face seemed to hold a permanent smile, though it didn't reach his dark green eyes.

The man walked away to go into one of the other rooms and emerges with a first aid kit. He sets it on the kitchen table and nods his head to one of the chairs. "Sit," he ordered, "I'll fix you up first."

I kept standing, staring at him.

I know things can be too good to be true. Reality has a way of coming up and biting you right on the ass. I don't know this man, yet he is helping me only after seeing me and Gabe for a couple minutes.

"What's your name?" I demanded.

The man's constant smile widened a smidge at my command and he sat down at the table before answering. "Name's Dean. Yours?" His damn smile was teasing and I wanted to glare at him. I was raised better than that though.

"Rae," I answered simply. I bumped Gabe higher on my hip, "and this is Gabe."

"Did he tell you that?" Dean asked, his expression curious.

"No, he hasn't actually said anything since I found him." I smoothed Gabe's hair from his eyes. He was gazing up at me, still without any emotion. "But when I suggested the name, he seemed to like it."

Dean seemed to accept that. I looked at the man with the first aid kit. He seemed friendly enough. Really, if my time was limited as it is, I probably shouldn't refuse help when it comes to me. I put Gabe down on the ground and sat in the chair Dean had referred to before.

He studied the wound on my neck and muttered, "S'not too deep." He seemed puzzled.

"What's wrong?" I tried to look at the wound, but found it near impossible. It didn't seem to hurt as badly as the bite on my arm, but that could mean that it was deeper than I had first thought. "Does it need stitches?"

Dean didn't answer, but began cleaning the wound gently. He didn't look the type to have such a gentle touch. I glanced at Gabe and found that he hadn't left my side since I put him down.

"So why did you take him?" Dean asked as he carefully started wrapping by neck.

I wondered that myself and I knew it seemed like fate to redeem myself for my sins but I wasn't sure I wanted to tell a complete stranger a confession like that.

"After the blast, people were screaming and there was absolute chaos…I heard him crying. I just followed the sound. He looked so scared."

Gabe watched me while I was talking. He put his hands on my thigh and clumsily patted with both hands, his eyes were still black and red and widened with childlike innocence. Watching him made me smile. It made me glad I had found him.

"And why did he bite you?" Dean's serious green eyes captured my own.

I looked away back at Gabe. "He was hungry. What was I supposed to do?"

"Not many people would surrender their own body to a starving ghoul," commented Dean. He reached into the first aid box to grab more tape.

"It's not like it really matters anymore," I answered quietly.

"That because the police are after you?"  
"It's…personal actually. But no, it's not the police."

Dean's hands seemed to linger on my shoulder, then suddenly he grabbed the rubbing alcohol and began cleaning the bite on my arm.

"What are you planning on doing with the kid?"

I hissed in a breath as the alcohol touched the bite. "I want to find his parents," I gritted out. Dean stopped suddenly. "Don't just stop!" I cried, "Finish it quickly, it hurts!"

Dean removed the cleaning cloth from my arm, but not before Gabe kicks him in the shin, his little face set serious and determined to keep me from being hurt.

Dean raised his arms in surrender, eyebrows raised and grin quick. "Easy kid. I'm just trying to help."

"Gabe," I said chidingly and quietly surprised. "It's alright. Sometimes to get better, you have to hurt a little."

Gabe's expression was less serious but the emotionless mask was back. He hurried back to my side, gripped my leg and watched Dean.

The man laughed, "He's certainly attached to you now." He reached for my arm and under Gabe's careful watch, bandaged my throbbing arm.

A thought occurred to me. "Why are you so okay with us being here?"

He looked up at me as he finished putting the last piece of tape on my bandages.

"Were you serious about finding the kids real parents?"

Puzzled I nodded my head. "I can't take care of him forever and I can't pretend that I can. He needs food that I wouldn't have the heart to be able to get him. And really, I don't know where he came from. He just seemed to appear near the square. His parents were probably around, looking for him." I stopped, thinking. "I should have looked for them while I was there."

"You wouldn't have found them."

Dean got up from his chair and put the medical supplies back into the box, picking up tidbits of trash as well.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Look at Gabe's outfit. It's from the hospital."

I looked at the scraps Gabe was wearing. They were dirty and bloodstained, so it was difficult to tell what kind of outfit it had been in the beginning. I ran a hand around the collar looking for a label and found it at the back of the neck.

St. Patrick Specialty Hospital. But what concerned me the most was the tattoo on the back of Gabe's little neck.

#116-J

"What is this?" I breathed, horrified that it was what I suspected it could be.

Dean came around to see what I was looking at. He hissed out an angry breath, his eyes flashed with a fury that made me shiver slightly with fear. I had never seen someone so quietly enraged before.

"Dean? Does this mean he was a slave or something?" My voice heightened with fear and outrage. "Or an experiment?"

I tried to think of where this St. Patrick Specialty Hospital was located. The area that was bombed was largely made of special clinics and hospitals. But St. Patrick's seemed to tug at my memory. Perhaps I had passed it when I was heading to my car. Or I had heard something about it on the news.

I looked at Gabe, who's emotionless, yet watchful face seemed focused on mine. I wondered if he was trying to figure out what I was feeling. Such a small child who had expressed so much pain when I first found him. He's erased all emotion now that adults are around. He was used somehow and then he escaped.

Did he take the hospital gown when he fled? A disguise? No. He couldn't have thought that on his own. If he escaped by himself, then he had to have had it on when he left, which meant he was at the hospital. And there was no way they wouldn't know he was a ghoul. His eyes hadn't changed back to normal since I met them and even if they were, all patients had their blood tested upon arrival, searching for RC cells within their body, which would indicate whether they were human or ghoul. They would have known immediately.

So, what was he doing there?


End file.
